


What did you call me?

by Gemfyre



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Collars, Gen, Inappropriate touching, Torture, walls of text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemfyre/pseuds/Gemfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay tells Theon about the demise of the two people who may have saved him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What did you call me?

**Author's Note:**

> This is set more in TV!verse than book!verse. It's kind of what I'd like to happen before the season ends.
> 
> This is the first time Ramsay has called Theon "Reek" in this headcanon.

“You can't stay up there.”  
“Wh..what?” Theon blearily lifted his head, uncomprehending.  
“You can't stay on that saltere. If you're to be any use to me you need to be able to walk at least, and hanging on that thing your legs will just atrophy.” Ramsay began to work on the ties at his wrists. Was it true? Was he going to be freed of this godforsaken device? He almost smiled in relief until Ramsay finished undoing the fetters and lifted him off, placing his feet on the floor. Theon's legs immediately buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor in a heap, crying out in pain as cramps racked his limbs. Ramsay knelt at his side and began to knead the muscles. Theon flinched, then let out a shaky breath when he realised Ramsay, for a change, was not trying to hurt him. The massage almost felt good, but something bothered Theon about the way his hands lingered sometimes, and dragged lightly up his legs over twitching skin, fluttering close to places reserved for bedmates.  
“Better? Think you can stand up?” Theon wasn't sure, but Ramsay lifted him up and allowed Theon to lean heavily on his shoulder. He was surprised to find his legs obeyed him, although they still ached. “I'm moving you somewhere more worthy of your status.”

He'd been led to a small, cold cell, it's only consolation being the wooden pallet beside the wall, which meant he didn't have to sleep on the stone floor. He almost protested that this was not the kind of place to keep a noble hostage, but he remembered Ramsay's wrath in time to meekly say, “Thank you my Lord.” It was an improvement to hanging on the saltere. And he would have a better chance of escape if he humoured his captor. Ramsay led him inside and gently pushed him down by the shoulders until Theon landed heavily on the pallet and then sat beside him, uncomfortably close, their thighs and shoulders pressed together until Ramsay had leaned over the edge of the pallet and emerged with a collar attached to a chain, which in turn was embedded low in the wall. Theon shook his head, “No... you can lock the door, you don't need to chain me up like a dog.” Ramsay had just smiled at him and tutted, like a fond mother trying to chastise a defiant child.  
“Of course I need to.” One hand snaked up his neck and rested heavily on his head, carding through his hair, stroking, as if he were just a pet that needed placating. Then gripping tight in threat as he brought the collar up and fastened it around Theon's neck. It was a wide strip of tough leather, immediately chafing, with a small lock that Ramsay secured with a key he kept in a pocket. Ramsay ran his hand along the collar, one finger sliding off of it to trail along Theon's skin instead. He leaned close and murmured into Theon's ear, “If you're good, I might find you a softer one. Lambskin maybe...” He trailed off and sat back up straight, regarding his captive with those pale eyes. “Now, I've had a few birds of late. Lots of news, and some of it you need to hear.” Theon was suddenly hopeful, had a ransom been paid for him? Was he going to receive some actual justice for his crimes instead of this incessant torment at Ramsay's hands? Theon didn't dare speak, just took in Ramsay's self-satisified grin and dancing eyes. Finally Ramsay spoke, “Daddy's dead. He fell from a bridge and was dashed on the rocks and swallowed by the sea.” For a fleeting moment Theon thought he meant Roose Bolton. But then the significance of mentioning the sea hit him. He was talking about Theon's father. Theon could tell Ramsay was excited just by the thought of it, one of the self-styled kings of Westeros, body shattered and drowned by the elements.

Theon wasn't sure how he felt about that. It wasn't like he knew his father terribly well, and they had most recently left each other's company on a sour note. Balon clearly disappointed in what his remaining son had become and Theon desperate to live up to his expectations. Theon had sometimes wondered if it even mattered to Balon that he was a hostage to the Starks, would he even care if he lost his last son if he had the opportunity to make war and win? Any hope of being the heir himself had already been quashed. Balon clearly preferred Asha despite the fact that she was a daughter. And he had to admit that Asha seemed capable of filling Balon's shoes. But then again, he hadn't made war until Theon had returned to the Iron Islands. Clearly his plans were in place, but he had stayed his hand, until his son had finally returned. “So... that means Asha will rule the Iron Islands.” He straightened slightly, a note of threat in his voice, “You might think she's incapable but believe me she is not.” Ramsay was still grinning.  
“She's fled back to Deepwood Motte. The one they call Damphair, I believe he's one of your uncles? He called a 'Kingsmoot'.” Ramsay paused and frowned at the term, it was clear he didn’t understand exactly what a Kingsmoot was or what it signified. Theon remembered reading about the old ways of choosing kings when he was a child. Why had Aeron called a Kingsmoot after all these years of simple succession? Of course, with most of the realm believing him dead and Asha as Balon's selected heir, he probably thought it best to give the people a say. Ramsay was continuing, “The Crows-Eye, Euron Greyjoy is now King of Salt and Rock. He's recalled your other uncle, Victarion from Moat Cailin and sent him to attack the Shield Islands once again.” He was obviously parroting what had been written on the raven's message. Ramsay smirked as Theon's face fell. Euron? Euron had been exiled. He didn't remember much at all about this absent uncle, only that one night Victarion had murdered his own wife and Balon had flown into a rage and demanded Euron leave and never return. The lack of remembrance was probably reciprocated. Euron would barely remember he existed, let alone who he was, and even if he did Theon doubted he would care. His one-eyed uncle had seemed a mad, cruel man, not unlike Ramsay really. He shivered. He would not likely be receiving any rescue from his own people. Now the best he could hope for was swift justice from Robb once he had finished with the war and could turn his attention back to the goings on in the North. Ramsay cupped Theon's cheek and forced him to look up at him. “And if your sister comes for you, I'll hunt her down myself and bring her here, and fuck her and flay her and feed bits of her to my bitches while you watch. Now I won't have you going all quiet on me and retreating into yourself.” He grabbed the chain and yanked it hard, causing Theon to gasp and fall towards him. Ramsay chuckled and grabbed him by the arms, sitting him up straight again. His legs were still cramping awfully. He didn't see where the knife had come from, but Ramsay seemed to always have it close by, the small, curved flaying blade. “I have one more piece of news, and if you don't pay attention...” He turned the blade back and forth in front of Theon's face, the light from the brazier flashing off of it. He didn't need to say anything further. Theon cringed and looked at Ramsay, waiting for him to begin.  
“There's been a big wedding in the Riverlands. My father was there.” Theon found his mouth opening against his better judgement,  
“Robb's married the Frey girl.” Ramsay shook his head, chuckling.  
“Oh no, seems our King in the North felt he was too good for one of Walder Frey's brood. He married some girl from the Westerlands, in secret. Half of his troops left in disgust when they found out.” Why would Robb do such a thing? The Westerlands were ruled by the Lannisters and the Lannisters were the enemy. It didn't make any sense. “King Stark decided to offer his uncle, Edmure Tully, as a replacement for himself. He married Roslin Frey. Apparently she's startingly pretty, for a Frey. Lord Edmure should be quite happy with her.” Ramsay smiled down at Theon, reaching out to pet his hair again. “The letter was very long, but I memorised all the details just so I could tell you.” Theon's stomach clenched. Something was wrong with this. Had Late Lord Walder accepted this poor substitute for a king? What else had he demanded in atonement? Hesitantly he spoke.  
“Lord Walder doesn't seem like the kind of man who would accept that so easily? What else has he asked of Robb?”  
“I was just getting to that. As soon as he returned with the Westerling girl on his arm my father took action. He's a smart man, but kind of like a rat, he'll desert a sinking ship at the first sign of it listing. He couldn't help Robb Stark win this war, so he guaranteed his losing it.” Theon could feel the edges of his world beginning to crumble. He remembered Roose Bolton as being slightly odd, but astute and possibly very dangerous. Now his gut instincts were being proven correct. But what had he done at the time? Nothing. He had gone to the Iron Islands to gather ships to Robb's cause and instead taken Winterfell for himself, and he hadn't even done that right. He hadn't returned to counsel his friend. He had no idea why Robb would marry somebody from the opposing side, but if he had been there, Robb would have listened to him when he told him it was a patently stupid idea. Robb may have also listened to Theon's misgivings about the trustworthiness of the soft-spoken Lord Roose. But now, now he was here. He had earned the hatred of the man who was once his best friend. He felt fingers tighten in his hair, bringing him back to here and now as Ramsay forced him to look him in the eye. “I'm telling you a story here. It was a glorious conspiracy, Tywin Lannister and Walder Frey offered my father one of Lord Walder's granddaughters and her weight in silver. Of course he chose the fattest one.” Ramsay's expression hardened, “If she gives him any children I shall have to show her that a squalling babe will never take my place. I hope she does have plenty of children, then I should be in for a bit of fun.” He brightened again and continued, “You betrayed King Robb and so did my father, and the Frey's, they betrayed Guest Right.” Ramsay tsked and shook his head, still smiling, “Does nobody have any honour anymore? Once Lord Tully and his new wife were safely bedded they were locked inside while the celebrations continued below. I hear that they had the band play The Rains of Castamere as the cue for the slaughter to begin. My father personally put a quarrel through Robb Stark's heart. The Lady Catelyn managed to slit the throat of one of Lord Frey's grandsons before they finished her as well.” Ramsay's voice was bright and excited, “Stark's head was sent to King Joffrey. After it was done they killed the wolf too and lopped off its head and stitched it to King Robb's body and placed the crown atop it. I would have loved to have seen that.” It was too much. He held no illusions that Robb would forgive him for what he had done, but he knew his old friend, almost a brother really, would have meted out swift justice to him, instead of this nightmare he was now trapped in. Tears stung his eyes and he let out a shuddering sob.  
“They were my family.” He choked out. Ramsay pulled Theon towards him and stroked his back. Every shred of hope he had was now lost. He was trapped here. No-one was coming to save him. Ramsay shushed him, “You don't have any family Reek. I'm your family. I'm all you'll ever need.”


End file.
